


The semiotics of a lizard with wings

by Chairman



Category: Magic: The Gathering (Card Game)
Genre: F/M, Gen, also brallin is there because i love my shark son, ikoria, narset is a little shit sometimes, sarkhan is grumpy, ship is there if you squint, worldbuilding for ikoria
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-23
Updated: 2020-06-23
Packaged: 2021-03-03 18:47:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,955
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24870289
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chairman/pseuds/Chairman
Summary: Sarkhan was promised dragons, so he planeswalked to Ikoria at Narset’s behest. To his disappointment, Narset’s definition of “dragon” was far more expansive than his.
Relationships: Narset/Sarkhan Vol
Comments: 4
Kudos: 15





	The semiotics of a lizard with wings

Sarkhan was promised dragons, so he planeswalked to Ikoria at Narset’s behest. To his disappointment, Narset’s definition of “dragon” was far more expansive than his.

“Look at them!” She exclaimed, pointing to a flock of sprite dragons dancing above the spray where thundering waves met white sand.

“Cute,” he muttered, and though he appreciated their agility and grace, they were not what he expected from a land known for its behemoths.

The two of them waded into the warm ocean until the incoming waves lashed at their ankles. Narset had taken off her shoes and rolled up her pants, even though Sarkhan knew she could have easily channeled energy to stand above the water. Strangely, she seemed to take pleasure in digging her heels into the sand, which was not something Sarkhan would have expected from a Jeskai master. _Not a Jeskai master_ , he reminded himself. _A disciple of Ojutai. The Jeskai are long gone now._

 _She must feel the ache here_ , he thought, as he watched her mirror the dragons’ dance. Ripples began emanating from where she stood, and with a graceful turn she drew a circle where the roiling waves could not enter. Wind and water spun around her in a vortex, whipping her hair into long dancing strands. Sarkhan could feel the mana she was channeling, the calm familiar blue mixed with hints of white. And red.

There was a spontaneity and passion to her movements that was new; something different from the cool, calculated movements he had witnessed on Ravnica, when the two of them infiltrated Bolas’ meditation realm. Perhaps at that time she could not afford this new experimentation—or perhaps the mana of Ikoria, unlike that of Ravicna, gave her easier access to the red mana inside her.

A rumble in the ocean disturbed Narset’s carefully made circle, and she leaped into the air just in time to avoid the jaws of a great white shark. The sprite dragons shrieked and scattered, but Narset, ever calm, simply hovered in the air for a brief moment, and then with a calculated kick struck the shark right on the nose. The shark roared and scampered back towards the ocean, and that was when Sarkhan noticed that it had a pair of thick, catlike limbs.

Narset landed in the water with nary a splash, and after fixing her robes gave Sarkhan a cheeky grin. “How’s _that_ for a dragon?”

“That—” Sarkhan sputtered. “That was a _shark_ with _legs_. That doesn’t count!”

“You were unimpressed with the sprite dragons so I thought you’d appreciate something with a bit more gravitas.”

“That thing was large but hardly impressive,” Sarkhan huffed. “And I didn’t _not_ find the sprite dragons charming. But…”

“In a plane of monsters, you were hoping for something grander,” Narset finished his sentence.

“You said there were dragons here,” he muttered.

“And there are.”

“I was hoping for something larger than a cat.”

“Cats are large here.”

“You know what I mean.”

“What about those drakkis we saw on our way here?” She was referring to the large red lizards sunning themselves along the cliffs, ancient power clinging to their scales.

“Overgrown tegu,” he dismissed. “Or a fat Silumgar that hid no cunning or power.”

Narset did not laugh at his joke, merely tilted her head up at the sky as if she were watching for something. Sarkhan did not know if this was a fault of his, or if this was merely one of those times when she did not get a joke. Perhaps it was crude to mention Silumgar and make Narset recall the desolation of Tarkir once more, the lost history of the Sultai.

This was not Tarkir, no matter how much the mana reminded him of his homeplane—before time was rewritten and magic itself changed. Before the actions which brought him great joy and greater regret. For one thing, the human settlements were not constantly at war with each other, though that was probably due to the threat of the beasts (and dinosaurs, and elementals, and very big cats).

Narset kept staring at the sky, and once Sarkhan followed her gaze he realized the tilt of her head wasn’t due to confusion. No, she was trying to get a better view of the flying city overhead.

“Impressive,” he admitted despite himself. “Humans really do know how to survive when pushed to the brink.”

“Surround themselves with lava,” Narset mused, “or sail up to the sky. Shall we?”

Without waiting for an answer, she leapt up in the air and seemed to jump on invisible footholds. Sarkhan knew it was an old Jeskai trick to condense the moisture in the air and quickly use them before the ice sublimated back into vapor. Graceful, if inefficient. With a shrug his arms transformed into brightly scaled wings and he too joined her in the sky.

“Need a lift?” he called out once he closed the gap between them. His words were barely audible over the roar of the winds.

“I’m fine,” she replied, before falling a few meters and taking another leap. Despite her cool exterior, she seemed to be running out of breath. “I don’t want to break your back.”

“You’re—not—heavy!” Sarkhan called out, and with a sigh he transformed the rest of himself into a dragon and swooped beneath Narset, catching her before she could produce another foothold. She stumbled a bit on his back but quickly righted herself, settling into a shallow lunge.

In the distance, another giant form loomed, and soon the two of them were greeted by young man riding atop a giant flying shark. What was with this plane and sticking extra limbs on those things?

“Ahoy, fellow bonder!” the boy called out. “Heading to Skysail?”

“No and yes!” Narset shouted back. “Not a bonder, heading to Skysail.”

“Where’s your beacon? You need a beacon if you’re gonna bring a beast into the settlement.”

“I am no beast,” snarled Sarkhan, his voice low and rumbling in his dragon form. “I am a dragon!”

“What’s that?” the impertinent boy asked, “I’ve never seen one that can speak before!” Sarkhan estimated how upset Narset would be if he had a midflight meal.

“Don’t you know what a dragon is, boy?”

The boy was not looking at him anymore, however, instead lighting a flare of some sort. A burst of white light shot from his hand and was met with a similar light from the floating city. The two beams joined into one, and the boy and his shark ascended towards the city.

On his back, Narset shifted, as another beam shot down from the city towards them. He banked to avoid it, while Narset jumped up and plunged her right hand directly in the beam’s direction like a knife. The light split where her hand was, scattering into different colors like light through a crystal prism. Sarkhan maneuvered to catch her landing; it was easy as she floated slowly down from where she leapt.

More beams began to shoot in their direction, but Narset deflected each one with polished ease. The two of them landed upon a smaller balloon that was likely a sentry, and Sarkhan transformed back into his human form.

A frightened guard held a spear to their faces, which Sarkhan brushed away briskly with the back of his hand. Still shaking, she managed to sputter out, “What brings you to Skysail, foe?”

“Friends,” Narset corrected, moving easily to avoid the spear’s trajectory as the guard pivoted towards her in a panic. “We are simply travelers here to explore this fine city.”

Keeping her spear trailed on Narset, the guard glanced downwards for a second. “You arrived with a great beast,” she said, “where did it go?”

“Dragon,” Sarkhan growled.

“Away,” said Narset. “Do not worry, you are not under attack. Which way to the nearest bookstore?”

Some more confusing conversation later, Narset and Sarkhan trekked across thin rope bridges from balloon to balloon, until small cots turned to neighborhoods and the bustle of people from all over grew into a great throng. Narset walked with practiced confidence despite the high altitude and the flimsy structures, while Sarkhan hated how the bridges moved and shifted with each step. Was it the nature of the humans of this plane to live like ants, in tight cramped spaces? With the majesty of Ikoria beneath him, he could not understand their reasoning at all.

-

Bookshops were Narset’s domain. Sarkhan merely tagged along behind her, feeling more and more claustrophobic as walls of people encircled him. She, on the other hand, didn’t seem to mind the pushing shoulders and prodding elbows, and moved through the crowd with ease, like a trout swimming unheeded with the current. From previous conversations, he knew this to be a façade of sorts. “I just imagine myself floating on top of everyone,” she explained. “It’s almost like meditation, thinking the crowd away.”

They reached what appeared in Sarkhan’s eyes to be a dilapidated stall, but Narset’s face brightened and she pounced upon the books without hesitation, forcing Sarkhan to confront the confused storeowner.

“We are travelers,” he explained, wishing Narset had given him more words to say to the locals. What did the mindmage call himself? “Researchers.” Luckily, the old storeowner seemed satisfied with his explanation, and he was freed to browse the shop’s wares as well.

Aside from books there were also fine scrimshaw jewelry and carvings made in petrified wood. Aside from abstract imagery, many of them depicted strange beasts that seemed like amalgams of the animals Sarkhan knew: a huge lumbering rhinoceros with antlers growing along its back, a lion that had far too many sharp parts, and a…thing full of eyes. One of the figures interested him, however: a raptor-like creature with bat wings and a vicious snout. Curious, he picked it up and examined it more closely.

“Fine carvings of the Apexes, aren’t they?” the shopkeeper piped up from behind him. Sarkhan twitched but fought down the adrenaline that spiked at the sound of a foreign voice.

“Is that what they are?” Narset said excitedly, clutching a stack of books in her arms.

“The hunter who sells me these carvings calls that one Vadrok, though I don’t know more about it,” the shopkeeper said. Narset thanked him and proceeded to buy the books she held, as well as the carving of Vadrok. Sarkhan was slightly annoyed at the purchase but still held onto it, since its odd shape would not fit into any of his pockets or pouches.

They were on their way to another stall when a familiar voice called out, “Hey, not-bonder lady! You didn’t get fried by the reconnaissance beams!”

The two of them turned to see the boy who rode the skyshark, sharkless and with a large sack on his shoulders. With the energy that came from youth he dashed through the crowd, unaware of the angry glares from the locals. Narset smiled and gave a small wave as he neared, books tucked under one arm.

“It was quite the welcome to give us,” she said. “As surprising as seeing you riding a skyshark.”

The boy, who did not look a day over fifteen, laughed and tucked a strand of hair behind his ear. “Yeah, Shabraz and I share an _eludha_. We’re both explorers at heart, though I still need to make supply runs once in a while.”

Narset nodded. “We are simply travelers—my friend here has a keen interest in dragons, and sadly the fauna I’ve shown him have been unsatisfactory.”

“I still have no idea what you mean by ‘dragon,’” the boy laughed. “The sprite ones are cute and all, but they’re just lizards that sprouted bat wings, aren’t they?”

Sarkhan breathed in and out, trying to resist the urge to commit a massacre.

The boy introduced himself as Brallin, and though he gave Sarkhan a few funny glances he was jovial and did not ask any complicated questions. After some trivial conversation, the boy pointed at the carving in Sarkhan’s hand and said, “So, are you a Thunder Raptor enthusiast or a hater?”

“You know of Vadrok?” Narset asked. “We merely bought it out of curiosity. Can you tell us more about it?”

Brallin’s eyes went wide. “You haven’t heard the tales of the Terror of the Skies, who breathes blue fire it stole from the sky? The apex of thunder, the eraser of memory?”

“A great big flying monster with lightning breath, you say?” With a feeling of impending doom, Sarkhan glanced at his companion, who had an almost mischievous look on her face.

“That’s right!” the young man said. “Wings that suck in the air to beat in silence, too. It can raze entire villages, and wipe them from memory itself.”

“Sounds like a dragon to me,” Narset smiled.

Brallin scratched his head and shrugged. “I guess? Think technically it’s part cat, part dinosaur, and part—”

“Let’s do it,” she said, and Sarkhan wondered if her newfound red mana made her more impulsive. “Let’s go find Vadrok.”

Brallin blinked for a moment. “Am I part of that ‘let’s’?”

“Do you want to be?”

A look of concern passed over the boy’s face, but was immediately replaced with unbridled enthusiasm. “Of course I do!” he whooped.

Sarkhan blinked, and soon the three of them were flying back towards the Raugrin cliffs on Shabraz’s back. Somehow, they were now on a quest to find the Thunder Raptor.

-

To Brallin’s credit, he was only moderately surprised when Sarkhan sprouted wings and flew on ahead. Shabraz had seemed burdened with two people already, and Sarkhan preferred flying on his own terms rather than on the back of a misplaced apex predator.

“Don’t fly too far!” Narset called from behind Brallin. “We’ll meet up near the cliffs!”

Sarkhan called back something in response, but it was lost to the wind. Not that it mattered, since Narset had (perhaps too much) trust in his independence. Free from the suffocation of human settlement, he spread his wings to catch an updraft and transformed fully into a dragon on the ascent, his spine elongating to a tail and his nails growing into sharp talons. In the exhilaration of flight, the untamed mana of Ikoria called to him differently than when he walked upon its surface. Something hushed and primal pulled at every fiber of his being, seeping into the cracks between his scales and settling within the tendons of his wings. Power, unsullied by ambition or belief. He was being offered pure power.

The rush pulled him into a state of pure violence, like his days roaming with the Mardu horde. Nothing in his ears but the clash of steel and nothing in his eyes but the red of blood. As he was drawn more and more towards this unthinking state, the last shreds of his hard-earned sanity recoiled at the prospect of losing control. Slowly, the feeling of power began to melt away from him. Sarkhan was surprised to find no trace of grudge or disappointment in its retreat. It simply left his mind, just as a fly would abandon its perch for no rhyme or reason.

He glanced around for his companions and found them much further ahead than him. With speed rivaling that of Kologhan’s brood, he beat his wings to ready himself for a swan dive. As he passed by Shabraz he could hear a delighted whoop from the shark’s riders.

He reached the cliffs before the rest of the party, and a part of him took joy in winning the undeclared race. A smaller part wondered if outspeeding a shark in flight was something to be proud of, and Sarkhan even chuckled at that thought as it was clearly influenced by Narset’s unflappable questioning of how the world worked. The skyshark was decently fast, despite its muscular body not being suited for the air, and soon Narset and Brallin joined him at the cliff’s base.

“The Shroka Peaks,” Brallin whispered. “The lair of the Thunder Raptor.”

“So tall,” Narset mused. “Would it be better to travel over or through?”

“Above,” Sarkhan and Brallin said at the same time. The dragon mage glanced at the boy and smirked. He had a some sense after all.

“Wind can be strong through the ravine,” Brallin shrugged. “And I’d rather be able to fly away quickly than be stuck between two large rocks.”

Narset nodded and began to trek up the peaks, following a rough array of trees so small they could be shrubs. Sarkhan and Brallin soon followed after her, with Shabraz flying low overhead.

The climb was steep, and the wind buffeted them from all around, winding through the narrow cliffs and howling in their fury. With stiff hands Narset reached into her robes and procured a ribbon, with which she tied her hair back to keep the winds from whipping it in her face. She turned and held out a similar ribbon to Sarkhan.

The climb to the peak was mostly silent. Breath was reserved for the arduous climb, and the few words spoken were ripped from their mouths by the howling wind. As the two planeswalkers and the boy ascended, the air grew cold and crisp, and the wind abided into merely an eerie chill.

Red-cheeked and nearly out of breath, Narset nevertheless looked resplendent against the blue afternoon sky. She stretched her arms as if receiving an omen from the heavens, and Sarkhan turned his head to conceal his smile of fondness. No matter which timeline, Narset’s home was on cold mountain peaks, whether among Jeskai monks or Ojutai followers.

Next to her, Brallin also raised his arms and let out a loud whoop that echoed across the ravine. Above them, Shabraz roared in response.

Narset laughed and patted Brallin on the shoulder. “I’m glad the climb was not too much for you,” she said.

“Not gonna lie, it almost was,” the boy responded. “But I didn’t want to quit in front of you guys so I kept on walking, and now I’m glad I did!” He covered his eyes with one of his hands and scoured the horizon. “I mean, look at that view.”

“We flew here,” Sarkhan scoffed. “You’ve likely seen more impressive views on the back of your shark.”

“Maybe,” Brallin said, “but it’s usually not this _still_.”

“So still,” Narset repeated. “There’s something special about being this close to the sky with your feet still on the ground.”

Sarkhan sighed and looked out at the barren cliffs once more. The stark beauty of the crystal-lined cliffs made him feel small, and the wide expanse of sky overhead seemed able to swallow him whole. He was not made for this magnificence—not made to see it standing still like this. He would appreciate it more if he were a dragon flying overhead, as a part of the sky as the sun and clouds. Here he stood between worlds, precariously positioned at a height that would kill him if he fell.

Then again, it would be rude to leave the others alone and, more importantly, flightless. So he breathed in as Narset once taught him and let his thoughts go on the exhale, imagining them weaving out through the peaks and valleys like silver strings.

The boy continued to shout into the ravine, and to Sarkhan’s surprise Narset was joining him, holding two fingers in her mouth and letting out piercing whistles. A part of him wanted to chastise them—they were on the hunt for an _apex predator_ after all, and all this ruckus was doing them no favors. Yet he could not find the disciplinarian inside of him to stop their fun.

This Narset was younger than the Narset he had met on his way to the Nexus, but she was still a good number of years, possibly even decades, past what could be considered youth. Since history had been rewritten, Sarkhan had no measure of his own age, not even the date of his birth. What was time to a planeswalker, anyways? Did all planes obey a universal time, dictated by some unknown timekeeper within the Blind Eternities? And how much time had been lost in traveling between worlds—time kept by the denizens of each plane in their own measure, and time kept by the bodies of those who traveled between worlds.

He was ruminating again, and once more he exhaled his thoughts and let them dance and scatter with the wind. Narset and the boy were in a world of laughter he was not ready to enter yet. A world he did not let himself enter.

Once more, silver threads.

“You call those roars?” he growled, and relishing the looks of surprise from the other two. “This is a roar!” He extended his hands, and his forearms transformed into two dragon heads with fiery eyes and night-black scales. The two heads roared in harmony, and this time the cliffs seemed to shake with reverberations.

“What was that?” Brallin shouted, his voice trembling from excitement and fear. “What in the brushwagg’s tail is your friend?” he asked Narset.

Against the echoes of his roar, Sarkhan gave a bloody Mardu grin and extended his arms, letting the two dragon heads surround him with a wreath of flame. “I am Sarkhan Vol, servant to no dragon lord or Khan, dragonmage of Tarkir.”

If the boy did not understand the words he had spoken, his enthusiasm was not lessened by it. He continued to babble on excitedly, words spilling out in quantity rather than in coherence.

The excitement dissipated all at once when the echoes of his dragon roar died, not diminished like the lifespan of natural sound but at the hands of some artificial silence. Within the stillness the three of them held their breaths, each keeping track of their own heartbeat until a great bellowing roar cut through the air itself.

Sarkhan acted purely on instinct. He did not notice the hairs on his arm standing up in an electrostatic field, nor did he bother checking what fluid was leaking from his ears. With clear eyes and clearer determination, Narset pushed the boy into his arms and gestured skyward.

The bond between boy and shark was made of stronger stuff than Sarkhan was initially led to believe, as Shabraz continued to circle the air above them, making shrill calls that sounded pathetic compared to the thunder approaching. Holding Brallin tight by the waist, Sarkhan sprouted wings from his back and lifted off the ground.

As they ascended they passed the zone of silence, where the rush of the wind and the shrieks of the skyshark were audible once more. Seeing his human in the clutches of an unknown beast, Shabraz charged at Sarkhan, jaws open but somehow welcome. With a quick maneuver Sarkhan deposited the boy on top of his partner. Thankfully, Brallin grabbed onto the harness and righted himself on the skyshark’s saddle.

“It’s really Vadrok, isn’t it?” he shouted. “Will Narset be all right?”

“She will be,” Sarkhan said with calm certainty. “But I will go help her. Take your shark and get far away from here!”

Before the boy could reply, Sarkhan dove back towards where Narset stood, miniscule next to the beast before her.

So this was Vadrok. Its head by itself was bigger than Narset. Cruel, catlike, with a distended jaw full of sharp teeth. A long, leathery neck studded with blue crystals connected the head to a large winged torso, much like a pterodons. An aura of lightning surrounded it; the air crackled as Sarkhan neared, smelling of smoke and ozone. It was hard to breath and hard to hear, as if the atmosphere itself forgot its purpose.

The Apex of Thunder let out a roar and once more a wave of silence spread like a sonic wave, almost knocking Sarkhan off course. Every inch of his dragon body crackled, filled with static electricity. Once more, the pull of this plane’s mana coiled around the sinews and fibers of his body, offering some unknown boon.

On the ground, Narset danced gracefully around Vadrok’s attacks; the confrontation was as much a conversation as it was a battle. This much was expected of Ojutai’s favored disciple. Having trained with both humanoid monks and dragons, Narset was not fazed by her opponent’s size or power. Watching her fight, Sarkhan had no doubt that this Narset, despite being born to a different time and circumstance, would have become the same esteemed Jeskai khan given time. There was hardly a scratch on her save for some singed parts of her robe.

Even more surprisingly, Vadrok seemed to be approaching the fight in the same way. Most of its attacks consisted of swipes with its hind legs or lashes with its tail. Even from being near it, Sarkhan could sense that it held an enormous amount of elemental power, but it seemed content to swat at Narset like a cat would a fly.

He came to the horrifying realization that this was _exactly_ what Vadrok was doing. He’d seen cats catch mice or insects only to let them go, watch them scamper away and then trap them once again in its paws. Narset was safe only so long as the beast remained entertained, and she was visibly tiring despite her graceful movements.

Figuring he would apologize later, Sarkhan breathed a column of fire at Vadrok, taking care to keep Narset out of the inferno. Electric blue eyes fixated onto him, and with a deafening roar Vadrok rose up to face Sarkhan.

It moved faster than he expected, and soon Sarkhan was face to face with the apex as it dug into his sides with its talons and tried to bite into his neck with its gaping maw. Taking advantage of its proximity, Sarkhan breathed flame directly into its face.

Vadrok let go of him with a yowl, and the two of them entered into an aerial battle where lightning mixed with dragonfire.

With Vadrok already tired from its bout with Narset, Sarkhan seemed to have the upper hand, and after a few flybys he could see patches of scorched flesh on the beast. Suddenly, Sarkhan spotted something in his periphery: a patch of light blue against the gray smoke-filled sky.

The boy and his shark had not fled and instead were watching the fight from a distance. Cursing, Sarkhan shifted his trajectory to lead Vadrok away from them.

The maneuver put him in a vulnerable position, which the predator capitalized on with jaws opened, ready to release its devastating stream of lightning. Sarkhan braced for the hit, but instead a blur of white and blue collided with the side of Vadrok’s mandible.

Narset’s foot hit Vadrok with an audible _crack_ , and a flurry of blue and red energy scattered from the impact. For a moment she was frozen in place, powerful and triumphant, before gravity sent her plummeting back down towards the ravines below.

In a flash of blue and white, Shabraz appeared below her, and Narset deftly corrected the course of her fall to land on the shark’s tail. Unfortunately, Vadrok was also keenly following her fall and, with a defiant roar that once again replaced sound with silence, appeared to ready another blitz of lightning.

Desperate, Sarkhan pulled his wings against his body to quickly dive after Vadrok, placing himself between it and his traveling companions. Acting on instinct alone, he opened his mouth and hoped his dragon fire was faster than Vadrok’s blast.

As heat coiled in his stomach, preparing itself into flame, he felt the pull of Ikoria’s red mana once more. So close to Vadrok’s eyes, he could see beyond the animal instinct to the pride, hunger and jealousy that stirred within the beast’s heart.

Jealousy? Yes, with the title of apex came the burden of greatness, and whether it came from the natural desire to outcompete or from a sentient soul he did not know. What did Brallin say about Vadrok? The blue fire it breathed was stolen from the sky.

Sarkhan was familiar with this kind of jealousy, the same kind he felt when he saw dragons for the first time and wanted their power and majesty for his own. So much devastation had come of his actions—he only had to look back at Narset to be reminded of his folly.

Ikoria whispered, “ _Accept your capacity to change_.”

When Sarkhan breathed dragonfire, what came out of his mouth was not fire but lightning, plasma blue and crackling with energy. It climbed up towards Vadrok as if following a guided rail and exploded against its right wing. It roared in pain, and gray clouds gathered in the sky, flashing lightning and peals of thunder stirring within them.

Then, silence followed soon by the sound of the storm. As rain began to pelt his scales, Sarkhan transformed back into a human and, exhausted, let himself fall trusting that Narset would catch him. He closed his eyes and let the sound of rain and thunder envelop him.

-

They waited out the rain in a cave they found in the side of the cliff, high above the flooding canyon. After scolding Brallin for his foolishness, Sarkhan settled down and helped himself to many cups of warm tea.

Between bites of waybread, Brallin excitedly recounted the events that just happened, already with embellishments only youthful imagination could provide. “That was a real adventure, wasn’t it? And Shabraz and I swooped in to save Miss Narset! This expedition was amazing, I feel as if Illuna had granted my wish for an adventure.”

Sarkhan let out a sigh as Narset’s eyes sparkled with the promise of new tales.

“What is Illuna?”


End file.
